Page 166 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Couldn't sleep," she says softly, setting a fresh mug beside my cold one. "Saw your light on. Figured you could use caffeine that doesn't taste like motor oil."

I should minimize the screens. Should protect her from what I've found. Should keep her innocent of just how deep this rot goes. Instead, I find myself frozen, watching her face in the monitor's glow. She looks so young sometimes, especially like this—barefoot and drowning in borrowed clothes, bringing coffee like it's normal to care for someone working through the night.

"Mavi?" She tilts her head, catching something in my expression. "What's wrong?"

"You should sit." I pull out the second chair, the one I bought specifically for when Austin comes to review security footage of Luna. "There's something... I found some things."

Her hands tremble slightly as she lowers herself into the chair, but her voice stays steady. "About Blake?"

"About his whole fucking pack." The words come out rougher than intended. I scrub a hand over my face, trying to find a way to soften this. There isn't one. "Willa, they're not just abusive. They're criminals. The fire—it's not the first time."

I turn the monitor toward her, watching her face as she reads. Color drains from her cheeks with each line, her coffee mug forgotten on the desk. When she reaches the part about the other omegas, a sound escapes her—small and wounded, like something breaking inside.

"Three others," she whispers. "They did this to three others before me."

"At least three." I pull up more files, bank statements showing systematic draining of accounts, property transfers that happened days before 'accidents.' "This is how they operate. Find omegas with assets—inheritance, property, savings. Marry them into the pack. Drain everything. Then..."

"Then kill them." Her voice is hollow, matter-of-fact in a way that makes me want to hunt Blake Harrison down tonight. "Make it look accidental. Collect the insurance. Move on to the next target."

She's shaking now, fine tremors running through her whole body. I want to comfort her, but I need her to see everything first. Need her to understand what we're really fighting.

"Your grandfather's ranch," I continue, pulling up property assessments. "Worth three times what anyone would guess. Prime development land if someone wanted to break it up, sell to developers. Blake married you for that ranch."

"And when I wouldn't sell..." She touches the screen where the fire report is displayed. "God, I actually thought he just lost his temper. That it was a crime of passion or whatever. But this—this was planned?"

"Every detail." I show her the insurance policy Blake took out six months before the fire. "He was always going to kill you, Willa. The only variable was when."

The mug slips from her nerveless fingers, shattering on the concrete floor. Coffee spreads in a dark pool, but neither of us moves to clean it. We're both staring at the evidence of whatshould have been her death, documented in black and white across my screens.

"I need—" She starts to stand, sways, and I catch her before she falls. She's ice cold despite the warm night, shock settling into her bones. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I guide her to the small bathroom attached to the office, hold her hair back while she dry heaves over the toilet. When nothing comes up—when did she last eat?—I wet a washcloth with cool water, press it to the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she gasps between shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" I crouch beside her, keeping the cloth in place. "For surviving? For not knowing you married a serial killer?"

"For bringing this to your door." She turns to look at me, eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "They kill people, Mavi. They kill people and now I've made you all targets and Luna—oh god, what if they come for Luna?"

"Hey." I catch her face between my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Look at me. They won't get near you or Luna again. Ever."

"You can't promise that."

"Watch me." The thing inside me that made me good at hunting predators unfurls, all teeth and purpose. "I've put away men like Blake before. The only difference is this time it's personal."

She searches my face, looking for something. "You've been betrayed too. Haven't you?"

The question catches me off guard. But looking at her, seeing my own ghosts reflected in her eyes, I find myself nodding. "Different kind of betrayal. But yeah. I know what it's like to trust the wrong person. To realize everything they said was a lie."

"Does it get easier?"

I think about the partner who planted evidence, nearly destroyed my career because I wouldn't look the other way. Think about the cases that went cold because someone higher up the chain decided justice was negotiable. Think about why I really left law enforcement—not for a simpler life, but because the betrayal went too deep to fix from the inside.

"No," I tell her honestly. "But you learn to trust better people."

She laughs, wet and broken. "Like a pack of broken alphas raising a baby?"

"Exactly like that." I help her to her feet, steadying her when she wavers. "We're all damaged goods here, Willa. That's what makes us safe. We know the cost of betrayal. We won't inflict it on each other."

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